


Win Him Over

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Arguements, Child Neglect, F/M, Flirting, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Private School, Self-Harm, minor racism, minor sexism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:06:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22160776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Gregory is the headmaster's son, sporting an awfully big personality and the goal of winning over the new French kid by the end of holiday break.Christophe is said new kid. He wants nothing to do with Gregory.
Relationships: Christophe "The Mole"/Gregory of Yardale, Estella Havisham/Herbert Pocket, Phillip "Pip" Pirrip/Damien Thorn
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

Ah, holiday break. The time of the year where you either stay at the school because your family doesn’t want you coming back for the holiday’s or you’re lucky enough to have them wanting you back to spend some valuable time with you. For Gregory, this really was and wasn’t the case. He was staying at the school, yes, but he did indeed have his family close by on the school’s campus. His father, Atticus Price, was the headmaster of the institution while his step-mother, Brooklyn, mostly did little things to help. She would sort papers, clean the house, deliver letters and important documents to other important staff and quite a few other things that were similar. If he had ever been placed in his step-mother’s position, he would have surely been bored to death. 

However, most of the time Gregory was certainly as bored as he would be doing those tasks. When he wasn’t attending classes or hanging around whom he considered close, he mostly sat around in his father’s office and stared off at the wall, sat on the grass somewhere on the campus picking at the blades of grass or listening to the clock tick over and over in the same old boring repetitive pattern that it would continue to make until the clock itself either broke or time itself stopped. Time wouldn’t ever stop, would it? A scary thought, surely, but when everything came to an end, it may either stop or continue while it leaves everything behind. 

Time is exactly what Gregory is thinking about now. His father had told him to sit outside of his office for a bit while he talked on the phone, the clock on the wall eliminating the quite with the ticking. How much time was there in time? When would time possibly stop? Would it ever stop? When he dies, will it just keep going without him knowing? He wouldn’t know anything if he died, all his memories would be gone, his existence will simply end and everyone and everything would only continue on as if nothing happened. As if nobody died, as if nobody’s memories and thoughts just disappeared. The only thoughts that would remain of the diseased would be their writings, their messages and stories they told time and time again. Perhaps they pass their knowledge on to their next of kin. Their children, grandchildren, their friends, their friends’ children and grandchildren… just an endless cycle of passing things down until one day nobody bothers to remember or simply just forgets. 

A door opening interrupted his thoughts and the possibility of an inner crisis, the mumblings in a native tongue being heard as an older woman made her way into the waiting area. The dress she wore went down to around her knees and was a soft blue, underneath being white leggings to hide any skin that would’ve been exposed. Her heels clicked against the floor, and following behind her was a male about his age. Gregory would stare for a moment, looking over the boy with a small sound of interest as he shifted in his chair. When the male made eye contact with Gregory, however, he felt his heart skip a beat. Not actually or he would’ve died, but to put it simply- it felt like time stopped, something Gregory never expected to happen. He’d blink and the next thing he knew, the other was in his face, eyes narrowed and nose wrinkled as he snapped his fingers by Gregory’s ear.

“Are you fucking deaf?”

With a snort, Gregory’s eyes narrow and he puts a hand up to the other’s chest to push him back. The other wasn’t wearing a school uniform, so he must be getting a tour of the place today. In fact, upon closer inspection of the boy’s body, he knew the perfect comeback to put him into place. “Are you not able to stay on a diet, fatty?”

“Are you not able to actually eat, string bean?”

Amused, Gregory leans back in the chair, one of his legs crossing over the other. “I would watch what you say, considering I’m the headmaster’s son. I could prevent you from getting in this school.”

This would only cause the boy to grumble and get closer, jabbing a finger against the blond’s chest. “Good. I don’t want to fucking be here. Remember my fucking name- Christophe. Maxence. DeLorne.”

“Christophe, come on.” His mother sighed and gestured for him to come back over to her, this causing the French boy to grumble and turn to return like a puppy. This greatly amused Gregory, who did his best to stifle a laugh. This boy was interesting- his comebacks were decent enough, his accent was a pleasure to listen to, and the boy himself was certainly a sight. Sure they had gotten off on the wrong foot, but he was the headmaster’s kid. Nobody could say no to him, right? Perhaps he could convince his father to take the boy on a tour himself- nobody in the student body knew the school better than him, right? Certainly not.

The door to his father’s office would open and the older man would stick his head out. Their faces shared a good enough of a resemblance that someone could easily tell they were related. Gregory had his father’s nose and bright blue eyes, with a similar colour of blond in their hair. However the elder’s hair was greying. 

“Ms. DeLorne?” He asked, raising a brow as he looked to the woman in the blue dress. She’d nod and slowly stand, grabbing for Christophe’s hand and tugging him along to the office. Once slipped inside, the door would close, and muffled voices could be heard.

How boring. Gregory might as well grab a book as he waits for their little chat to get over with so he could ask his father to give the French boy a tour. Standing up from where he sat, Gregory makes his way to the small bookshelf adorned with books somewhat new and fairly old. A finger traced over the spines before he stopped on a familiar book he hadn’t got to finishing, sliding it off and dusting the front cover. Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck. Of course he already knew what had happened to Lennie- he snaps Curley’s wife’s neck and gets in trouble, runs, George finds him, and after being told to think about the rabbits he’s shot right in the back of the head. Gregory had seen the film adaptation at a party once. Quite honestly he believed the bloke deserved it. 

Time passed by rather quickly as he got into the book- Slim’s dog had puppies and promised Lennie he could have one when they’re grown well enough. He was taken out of his reading by the sound of his father’s office door opening yet again, and his father’s heading poking back out. 

“Gregory, come in, I have a favour to ask of you.”

Eyes lighting up with a grin, Gregory nods and shuts the cover of his book. “Yes, sir.” He’d set his book to the side and hop up, sliding into the office and glancing around. A small desk lamp shine brightly on his father’s desk, and in two chairs before said desk sat Ms. DeLorne and Christophe. Gregory would give a small wave to Christophe with a smirk, the other responding with a scoff and a roll of his eyes. His father didn’t seem to bother closing the door as he stepped back over to his desk, grabbing his pen and tapping it on a pad of paper.

“The reason I have asked my son to join us, Ms. DeLorne, as I would like for him to show Christophe around the campus as well as where he’ll be staying in the dorms. As my son is a student of the school, he does not stay in the house with the rest of the family- in fact he stays in the dorms. With that, I have given your son the honour to share a dorm room with mine, as well as his other roommate that is already there. Christophe, here is your uniform-”

“No, I am not going on a tour with.. ‘im-” Christophe would quietly sneer, pointing a finger at the other boy. “I do not like ‘im.”

“Nonsense, you’ll grow to like him. That’s a promise. Go along you two.”

With a groan the Frenchman rose to his feet and grabbed the uniform the headmaster held out, looking to Gregory with narrowed eyes. “Lead the way.”

Gregory, full of pride with the praise he received from his father, gestured for the shorter boy to follow along. He opened the door and walked out, past the desk with the secretary behind it, and outside into the fresh air. A condescending smirk was plastered on his face as he glanced to Christophe, crossing his arms. “Right, give it to me straight.. I’ve been thinking... your mother is a white woman, yet here you are with dark skin. Is your father of darker skin? Are you adopted? Or are you a bastard?”

A mixed look of shock and confusion accumulated on Christophe’s face, glancing down to the back of his hand and back up to Gregory. Who did this kid think he fucking was? First he calls him fat, and goes right on ahead to question something that’s absolutely none of his business. At this point he assumed this was what all the kids were like at this school and if not, Gregory was just a spoiled brat. “Isn’t that absolutely none of your fucking business? I could sock you in the jaw if I wanted. Christ, tu es insupportable.”

“Excuse me for expressing my curiosity and asking a question.” The blond cooed, rolling his eyes. “Anyways, down this way is the gym. There’s no class right now as it’s Sunday, and holiday vacation, so you may change in the locker room there. I’ll show you. Come along.”

“I’m considering drowning myself in the dainty fucking pond over there, maybe the swans will peck my eyes out and end my suffering. You’re dragging this on for longer than you should be.” Christophe smacks Gregory on the back of the head as he walks by, grumbling and tightly gripping the uniform in his hands. “You just piss me off so much and I’ve ‘ardly even known you for an ‘our. Fuck you a million times over.”

“Oh, I absolutely wish we could.” Gregory sighs and brings a hand up to fix his hair as he strode down the pathway. “There’s bushes nearby~”

“You’re worse than the kids at my last school. Bunch of fucking kids with parental issues. One kid even tried making a homemade bomb for fuck’s sake! Ugh, maybe I’ll consider doing that within my first week of classes if I really want a grand exit, eh?” All of this was muttered under his breath as he slowed to follow Gregory. He wasn’t exactly sure what he had meant by ‘down this way,’ and quite frankly he didn’t want to get lost in an unfamiliar place. So, with that, he began to follow the pompous Brit down along the path.

“I’m top of my class,” Gregory would say aloud after a bit of walking, glancing over his shoulder to the French boy. “I get one hundred dollars in cash per A I get on my report card… of course they’re all A’s.”

“Will you stop trying to get praise from me to feed your starving ego?” Christophe would finally snap. “You don’t know how to shut up! I ‘ave absolutely no idea ‘ow I’m supposed to BUNK with you in a dorm! I ‘ate you, and I ‘ope you ‘ave that fact ingrained in your oh-so big brain of yours, brat.”

Gregory would slowly down to a stop, his body obviously tense as he fully turns to face the other boy. “What did you just call me?”

“A brat. I could say a lot fucking worse if you’re listening.” 

“I’m all ears, Frenchie.”

“Well, for one, you come off as racist. On top of that, you’re egotistical. Your ego is so ‘uge that I could probably see it from miles away! You dress like a twink who wants his ass completely wrecked, and every single time you force a smile or smirk I want to fucking punch you in the jaw. I could dislocate that if given the chance- you’re just lucky I’m so short.” 

As he listened, Gregory would mess with his ponytail that now laid over his chest. “Right… whatever you say, Frenchie. Whatever you say doesn’t really matter in the end, I’m the headmaster’s son, I get what I want around here. Hurry up, fatty, the gym is near.”

“Call me fatty and I’ll just consider reaching up to give you a fat fucking lip.”

“Threaten me one more time and I’ll just have my father send you home. Wouldn’t want that, would you?”

This causes Christophe to fall silent and stare up at the other, eyes narrowing as he takes a deep breath. “Fine. Fine. Whatever. Is this the gym building?” Christophe would point up to a decently sized building, one that looked pretty much exactly like the rest of the buildings on campus. 

Gregory would snort and roll his eyes, as if that was the stupidest question he’d ever heard. “No, dimwit. It’s the cafeteria. Stop thinking about food. It’s the next building over.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry that everything looks exactly the FUCKING same!” Christophe’s face grew red from anger, and if it were a cartoon steam would be blowing out of his ears.

“Quiet down, small one.” Gregory would sigh, rolling his eyes. “Follow me, I’m the leader of this little venture! Into the gym.” Gregory had tried his best to get over the arguing quite quickly, the cockiness he had sported before returning rather quickly as he bounded along the path. Past a few rose bushes and a small statue nestled within the greenery and they were at the front door, Gregory heaving the large doors open and holding it open for the Frenchman. “After you, dearest,”

Christophe would’ve gagged, shaking his head as he walked past Gregory. Was he calling him pet names to be a prick? He wasn’t quite sure because he didn’t have much time to think about it as Gregory pointed him in the direction of the lockers.

Perhaps, if he bothered to, he’d think about it again later.


	2. Chapter 2

The uniform Christophe had been given to put on was very…  _ snug _ . Usually with fancy clothes such as these he’d have to break them in so they wore down a little, but he had to go on a campus tour with the British boy waiting on him. With a groan, Christophe would lean against one of the sinks and stare into the mirror that hung above, his grip tight on the porcelain. Christophe was exhausted enough as it was from all the walking he had done from the parking lot to the headmaster’s office, and then to the locker room. Maybe he could persuade him to bring him to the dorms? Once they were in, he’d find his bed and lay down, and then go on to refuse getting up. 

It sounded like a plan to him- a good one at that.

His grip would ease on the sink and he’d take a deep breath, letting his shoulders relax. Then, he unclenched his jaw, realizing the tenseness there. He just needed to relax and get through the day. Then, from the moment he fell asleep in his bed, he could avoid Gregory and breeze through schooling as quickly as he possibly could. Christophe brought a hand to his messy brunett locks and combed it with his fingers, even drizzling a little water from the faucet on them so he had some sort of a substitute for product. Once satisfied with the clean yet still somewhat messy look he had achieved, he turned and headed out of the locker room to meet the blond.

“Took you long enough.” Gregory dramatically sighed, moving to Christophe’s side and resting a hand on his shoulder. Christophe would make an attempt to move away, but Gregory’s grip was so tight that he hardly budged. “Come along, Frenchie. We have places to go and things to see.”

“I want to go and see the dorm rooms.” Christophe spoke up, arms crossing against his chest. “I want to go and see  _ our _ dorm room. Don’t get any ideas. I ‘ave standards.”

“Right, sure you do. I had no intention of sleeping with you.” Gregory would huff and shake his head, hand sliding off Christophe’s shoulder as he walked along. Christophe could swear he felt the start of a bruise. “While we walk, tell me about yourself.”

“I see no reason as to why I should open myself up to you like you’re saying I should… give me a break, Gregory. I don’t like you. I don’t want you knowing about me, it’s too much of a fucking hastle.”

Gregory would raise a brow. “If you don’t like me, why are you still following me around like a little puppy? Why rely on me for a tour when you could go absolutely anywhere here by yourself to learn about your surroundings? Answer me that and I’ll believe that little statement of yours. I’m awfully smarter than I appear- as you said, I look like a...  _ twink _ , but my grades are golden and I’m the student everyone here wishes they could be. They wish they could have my influence and they wish they could reap the rewards of being the best.”

“Wow. Did your ego really just inflate bigger before my eyes?” Christophe sneers and moves a few steps ahead of Gregory, trying to show that he’d be leading the way from then on. “It’s massive and blocking my fucking view of where we’re going, so with that, I’ll lead the way. I’m smart enough to figure out my way around a campus.”

“Says the one who believed the cafeteria was the gym.” 

“Shut your mouth.” Christophe grumbles.  
“You can tell which buildings they are by how big they are and the roof tiling. Also, look through the window.” As they walked by the cafeteria once again, he gestures at the large window with a smirk. “See? Tables and booths. Then there is the lunch bar, where you grab your food and such.” 

“I asked to be shown the dorm rooms, not the cafeteria.” Christophe reminded him with a grunt. “I wanna see where I’ll be sleeping for the next year and a half.”

Gregory, ultimately defeated and slowly but surely losing any interest in giving this Frenchman a tour, rolled his eyes with a sigh and shook his head. “You know what? Fine then. It’s nearing the afternoon, I’m tired of dealing with you and your demands when I have my  _ own _ demands that need to be met… come now, Frenchie, hurry up before I dump you here and go to my group meeting.”

Christophe would realize he surprisingly won, quickly nodding and following behind Gregory as he led him yet again through the campus. They’d walk past a group of kids kicking a ball around in a game of football, and then a small group of girls sitting under a tree reading some books and engaging in small talk. There didn’t seem to be too many kids on the campus thanks to the break. What confused Christophe, however, was the lack of snow. “Where’s the snow gone? It’s winter, isn’t it?”

“We hardly get snow in England. What, did you expect us to have snow? If anything, we’re lucky to get sleet  _ sometimes _ .”

“... we hardly got snow in France either. It’s rare I see snow. Maybe 12 days a year, if anything… it’s depressing.”

“Maybe that’s why you’re so sour.” Gregory would begin to smirk yet again, a hand shoving itself in one of his pockets. “Anyways… you gave your things to my father, I suppose? I notice you tucked them by his bookshelf… so he must’ve already had someone take them to our dorm room. Our dorm room is one of the best out of all the rooms you could’ve got… however, our room mate is a little- oh, what’s the word? Right! Grim. He’s awfully grim. Refuses to stop wearing his sweater over the school uniform. My father regrets rooming him with me, but there aren’t any other rooms to switch him to… especially with such a large student body!”  
“Wow… really? So interesting.” Christophe would say in a dull voice, nodding along as the other rambled on and on. The only important part he picked up from that was about his bags, and the rest just seemed like white noise he forced himself to acknowledge fakely as to seem like he was listening. His eyes would wander over the other’s form as he trailed behind, mostly intrigued by how long the other had his hair, and how he wore it in a ponytail. He’d never really see males with long hair. “Why is your ‘air so long?”

“Why is my hair so long?” Gregory, with a soft gasp, seized this opportunity to talk more about himself than a room mate and the school, going on about how he adored taking care of himself with a lovely self-care routine. He’d talk about the shampoos he used, conditioners, the specific brushes he’d use because ‘absolutely no others would do!’ How he loved the feeling of being able to touch soft hair when he needed comfort, and all the different ways he was able to style his hair. 

Christophe didn’t exactly get a to the point answer, but he would just take away that Gregory just liked it that way. He couldn’t argue against the fact that he did indeed have a nice golden locks- hell, if he wanted to be anywhere near the brat, he’d probably stroke his fingers through it absentmindedly... and tangle it into a rat’s nest to make the other miserable, of course! Perhaps… sneak over to the other’s bed in the middle of the night and snip that ponytail of his off! No, that was too cruel to do to a man with such pride in his appearance… even Christophe had standards when it came to ruining someone’s life. “Cool.” That’s all he said for a good remainder of the walk, the only other sounds he made were small hums and grunts to acknowledge the other’s speaking. 

  
  


“Here we are,” Gregory would say in an almost sing-song voice, gesturing towards the door in front of them with a grin, “our dorm room. Did my father give you your keycard yet?”

“... No, I never got a fucking keycard from anyone- since I didn’t, ‘ow am I supposed to get back in if I leave the room and nobody is ‘ere?”

“Damien is almost always here, he isn’t a fan of leaving unless he has to for class.” Gregory took out a small card from his pocket, inserting it in front of the door in a little card slot. This would result in a barely audible beep, Gregory then turning the handle of the door and opening it. “After you, Tophe.”

“Call me Tophe again and I’ll be smacking you so ‘ard that you fucking ‘it your ‘ead on the damn ground, you ‘ear me?” Christophe warned, stepping inside to see his luggage by the couch. So Gregory had been right- his father did send someone to bring his stuff down. He’d glance around the dorm to take in the view and form his first impression, eyes lighting up at the sight of a small kitchen. He was glad that was there- sometimes he wanted to make foods that he wouldn’t have been able to make back home. “Oh merde, je suis déjà amoureux de ce dortoir…” He’d say breathlessly, heading straight for the little kitchen to look it over. Stove with oven, sink, quite a few cabinets- he’d open one up and see that there were hardly any appliances or kitchenware except for the cutlery, cups and plates. Damn it. “Where’s the fucking whisks? Dough beaters? The kitchen knives?” He’d look to Gregory with a look that almost screamed desperation, his hand gripping the handle of the drawer rather tightly. “ _ Not even a mixer?  _ Where is everything that makes up a kitchen?”

“Oh, we don’t have a need for any of those… whatever they are. I assume you mean appliances for the kitchen? It’s really only there for the refrigerator, so we can keep juice and such in the dorm. There’s the dining hall I had shown you earlier, anyways, so why would we need to use the kitchen when they make the food for us?” 

“I wanted to fucking bake.”

“Baking isn’t very manly, is it?” Gregory would raise a brow at Christophe, walking up to him with a small yet noticeable smirk. “Really, only women belong in the kitchen.”

A new nerve was struck in Christophe with the other’s stupid rambling- he’d turn around and snatch the other’s collar tightly with both of his pudgy little hands, pulling Gregory down and near his face so he could chew him out. Perhaps this time around he would actually seem like a genuine threat to be nervous about. “ _ Listen ‘ere. You said two very terrible fucking things in under thirty seconds- and in the time we’ve known each other? Multiple! First with the racism, and now you’re over ‘ere spitting lies about ‘ow women belong in the kitchen and ‘ow baking isn’t manly. Baking is an art form as is any form of culinary things. Art such as painting and sculpting were once only exclusive to men and very rarely women. If anything, you belong in the kitchen so we can give those poor bitches a break from the endless sexism they get thrown on them day by day from society being fucking pricks. I am from FUCKING France, we know our shit and we are not afraid to one-up anyone who thinks we can not fucking cook or bake. Now listen- you say baking isn’t very manly, but ‘ow is taking care of your ‘air fucking manly at all? Your ‘air is the length of a bimbo’s. I’d like to see you try and say another remotely sexist thing when you yourself look like a girl. _ ” With that, he’d shove Gregory back, giving him the eye as he walked past him to his luggage. However, he’d stop in his tracks as he noticed a figure standing in one of the doors. He’d look up and stare blankly, a hint of confusion plastered over his face. The boy was tall- far taller than himself, but not exactly the same height or any taller than Gregory was. 

“You’ve yet to attend any classes, but here you are still initiating fights with the most prestigious brat in school.” The boy would say with an amused tone attached, pulling down on the front of his sweater’s collar. “I’m Damien. Damien Thorn, I guess. No nicknames unless I give you permission. I’m from Florence, Italy. Where are you from in France?”

Finally- this was a relief to Christophe. Someone from a similar region to him. He slowly walked over, cleared his throat and looked down at his shoes. “Mayenne. North-western France.”

“I’ve been to Rennes. Beautiful part of the country.” Damien would nod, his hands shoved into his pant pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels. “I know little French, really… but my favorite phrase has to be ‘c’est la fin des haricots’... the end of the beans. Your language is so funny when translated to English.”

“It’s the equivalent to what English people say- last straw. My guess is your first language is Italian?” 

“Sì, è la mia prima lingua. Come hai potuto saperlo?” Damien let out a small snort, looking over his shoulder. “I’ve got… things I need to attend to, so I’ll be back out when I’m done. Maybe. Take care-... er… name?”

“Christophe.”

“Take care, Christophe, and good luck. You’ll need it with Barbie over there.” Damien would whisper and point a discrete finger at Gregory with a smirk. 

“Damieeeen!” A whine sounded from behind the taller ravenette, which results in him sighing and waving a hand as he turned and walked into the room. 

“Calm down, Phili-” The door had shut and Christophe didn’t hear the rest. Damien seemed like a decent enough guy- he could’ve gotten far worse than Gregory if he had been unlucky, but Damien just seemed like an upgrade.

“Damn it.” Gregory would say from the kitchen. “Does he have someone in his room?”

“Does it matter to you?” Christophe snapped defensively. “It’s none of your business who ‘e brings backs.”

“I’m the headmast-”

“Shut the absolute fuck up right now. For the love of your pathetic little bitch you call God. You really never know when to quit, do you? I don’t care whose son you are, you’re still a little bothersome bitch I ‘ave to deal with. Please…-” did he really just say please? “Just show me my fucking room so I don’t ‘ave to deal with you anymore. A ‘eadache is forming.”

Gregory hesitates, trying to decide whether he should continue trying to speak or giving into the other’s demands. After a minor debate with himself, he goes with the latter, pointing to a closed door past the little living space. “There. That is your room. Now get going before I try and ask you more questions. I have things I need to do myself.”

Christophe let out a sigh of relief as he quickly grabbed for his backpack and bags of luggage, bringing it with him to his new room. It wasn’t too big or too small- just right for Christophe since he was the only one staying in this single room. There was a little desk by the wall with a lamp, and his bed was to the wall opposite. He could make this room feel like the comfortable little home he had always wanted, especially with what he had brought with him. Lucky him, too! He even had a window! He’d walk over and pull the curtain open to peer outside, taking in the view. It was a pond, reeds and cattails sticking out along the banks… a few ducks were swimming in the water, soon waddling out and away from the small pool of water. How peaceful…. Christophe wouldn’t get tired of this view for perhaps a few weeks- maybe even a few months if he was lucky. 

From his bag, Christophe pulled a worn down giraffe stuffed animal, missing one of its button eyes. Some parts were so floppy that the poor thing couldn’t even sit up with something supporting it- the stuffing distribution was so terrible that some parts were flat while others were hardly stuffed. That's what years of wear did to a plush, right? Still, the love Christophe had for this plush was immense. He’d take the plush into his hands are lovingly stare into its remaining eye, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Moments of quiet like this with something he loved were the best. “Mon cher…” He whispered softly to the stuffed animal, snickering a little before setting it on the bed. 

He’d spend only a little while setting his room up- books went on his desk, clothes went in the small dresser at the end of his bed, and little dangling lights he had brought with him were hung on the wall. If anyone to suggest he was afraid of the dark, he’d most likely brush it off and tell them they’re wrong. Even though they were right. Christophe wasn’t a fan of the dark. 

When there was a knock at his door, which he had thought was left open, he quickly swung around to see Gregory standing there. “You’re settling in quite nicely, I see. The lights are awfully nice… fairy lights, right?” He’d walk over to Christophe’s bed and take a seat, not even waiting to be invited in or dismissed. He’d take Christophe’s giraffe plush into his hands, brushing a few fingers down the back of its neck. “Old… but soft. I assume you’ve had this since you were a baby, hm?”

“I really don’t think it’s any of your business whether or not I’ve ‘ad it since then. You’re very fucking nosey, you know, why couldn’t you give me time to be by myself?”

“I’m nosey by nature, I’m awfully curious to learn more about people… especially someone as interesting as yourself.”

“I thought you ‘ad shit to do-”

“I doooo… but they can wait. I want to watch you.”

“I am doing nothing but looking out the window.”

“Your point?”

Christophe would sigh, shaking his head and walking over to sit on the bed. He’d snatch his giraffe from the blond’s hands and hold it close, mumbling what could only be assumed to be profanities under his breath. “Don’t touch ‘im.”

“What’s his name?” Gregory hummed, leaning forward onto his knees. “He must have a name if you have assigned a gender to it.”

“... I do not want to tell you. You’ll laugh. It’s none of your business, anyways, as I ‘ave said over and over again for the past few minutes. Why can’t you leave already?”

“I don’t want to yet. I have the right to be here, you know.”

“In our  _ dorm _ , not my  _ room. _ Out. Now.”

“What? No, I don’t-”

“ _ Out,  _ right fucking now. I’ll put you into a chokehold and give you something to cry about!”

Gregory would quickly stand at the threat of violence, clicking his tongue as he quickly head out the door. “Christ almighty, you are difficult. A very difficult one. You’ll be a great challenge!”

Christophe stood and slammed the door behind Gregory, turning the lock and pressing his back to the door. He’d take a breath, calm himself down, and hug the giraffe close to his chest. All he needed was a breather. All he needed was a break from that asshole and everything would be fine- then he could go back to tolerating him when he came to bother him… he really didn’t want to be sent home if Gregory were to tell his father he started a fight. However, one thing from the exchange had piqued his interest- 

_ What did he mean by ‘a great challenge?’ _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys!!! wow, i know, right? finally a fanfic of mine that i actually have a PLAN for.
> 
> i've been wanting to right something having to do with a private school for a while now, and here we are!
> 
> again, as usual, you know the drill- i ramble on about how it'd mean the world to me if you left comments, how it gives me motivation to right, yaddah yaddah...  
> but thank you so much for reading! Seriously! It means the world to me. if you do comment, please tell me your favorite parts, what made you laugh, and whatever else you liked about my story (so far)!!
> 
> have a wonderful day !! <3


	3. Chapter 3

Gregory snatched his book bag from his bedroom before irately storming out, muttering light curses under his breath as he slammed the door behind him. Why was that kid so stubborn? Every single time he rubbed him the wrong way, obviously on accident, he’d snap and yell! If it hadn’t been for Damien leaving him room to help him, he was sure the little Frenchman would have gone about finding a spoon to scoop his eyes out. The blond would proceed to shiver as he continued along his way, out of the dorm and following one of the many stone-laid paths through the campus. His destination wasn’t evident until he had laid his eyes on one of the bigger buildings of the campus, being the school’s library. It was one of the older buildings that had hardly been renovated, thanks to it being kept in wonderful shape over the years. Not a lot of the students would come near the building until the exam seasons, so it was the perfect meeting spot for his small group of friends, especially in a small nook in the back of the library he had requested his father added. Pushing the doors open with his side, Gregory would make his way along his usual route through the bookshelves, glancing a few of the books on display here and there to see if there were any that would peak his interest; however, there just seemed to be none that would catch his attention. When he neared the little nook, he set his bag down and made himself at home in the little corner adorned with pillows and blankets, sighing softly. He almost felt his eyes grow heavy right then and there; however, he'd be taken away from the peace and quiet as the soft voice of another Brit was heard.

Gregory would look up to see the familiar faces of his friends nearing the nook, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he began to sit up more. “Oh, I’m glad you two remembered… I need to complain a little and get some advice from the two of you, if I may?”

The blond female who had taken a seat on a cushion had sighed, placing her hands in her lap as she shrugged. “Gregory, you always complain about  _ everything _ when we have these little get-togethers..” Her green eyes would glance up to the boy who had taken a seat by her side, his hand grabbing for hers in a gentle embrace and squeeze. “Herbert, dove, you..  _ Surely _ don’t mind our friend here rambling on about things we could care less about, complaining about other people are his father’s staff, hm?”

“I don’t at all!” Herbert would smile and use his other hand to push his round glasses up his nose, smiling and leaning on the girl’s side. “Estella, you and I both know I’m far too nice to refuse…”

With a small mumble, she’d sigh and nod as she gestured for Gregory to come close. “Come here, you, let’s check your arms.”

“Check my arms?” Gregory would question with a frown. “Why would we have to do that? Estella, my arms are just fine, you and I both know that very well..”

Estella’s reply would almost come out as a hiss as she angry whispered in reply to the other, her eyes narrowing as she leaned forward. “Just show me your damn arms, dimwit, it’s for your own good.” 

Gregory would hesitate to even come near Estella, but after a few seconds of debating with himself he’d move over and take a seat before her. He’d unbutton the vest above his dress shirt, pulling it off and proceeding to pull up the sleeves of his white dress shirt to show a series of scars running up and down the inside of his arm. Gregory himself would even flinch at the sight of the wounds, biting at his lip nervously as he looked off to the side.

“Gregory, relax, we’re not judging you, remember that.” Estella seemed to gently remind him, glancing to Herbert as she gave him a squeeze of the hand. “Doll, get the journal so we can write things down… get a pencil, too.”

Herbert would nod and let go of the girl’s hand, grabbing for her book bag and rummaging through before he pulled out a small, red notebook filled with lined paper. He’d flip past quite a few marked pages, before finally reaching the end of the writings and coming to a blank page. At the top, he wrote down the date, and then proceeded to wait for the other to talk. “Ready.”

Estella would trail her thumb down Gregory’s arm as she carefully observed each and every scar, being careful with the ones that were still healing from a while back. When she was done with that arm, she’d glance to Herbert and nod. “Right arm’s good, Herbert.” Then, she’d look to Gregory’s other sleeve expectantly, letting go of his right arm. “Going to lift it up for me?”

“Estella, this whole thing really isn’t necessary, I don’t think…” Gregory’s voice would trail off as his hand grabbed for the bottom of the sleeve, a small whine slipping his throat. “I don’t… want… you guys telling people if you end up turning against me-”

“We’ve been your friends since eighth grade!” Herbert would pipe up with a smile. “Do tell us, Gregory, why would we want to turn against you? You’ve always been there for us, and if it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have this type of wonderful education!”

Gregory swallowed thickly and shook his head, rolling up the sleeve slowly but surely to reveal an almost equally scarred arm.

Everything seemed normal until Estella’s eyes had landed on a fresher scar, towards the bottom of his forearm. She’d suck in a breath and click her tongue, grabbing for her bag and pulling out a roll of bandages. “Tell me why you have a new one?”  
“... I don’t think you guys need to know, Estella, it’s only my business in the end-”

“It’s not because we want to know and spread it around like the new gossip, Gregory, we need to write it down in the book-”

“What’s the entire fucking point of the book?” Gregory would quickly snap, pulling his arm away from Estella’s grip as he backed up. “What’s the entire point, huh? Just to… write down all my fucking problems? So that when someone finds it, they’ll know everything I deal with? All my problems? The fact that I cut-”

“Gregory!” Estella snapped, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him just enough to shut him up. Blue eyes meet green and she sighs, looking down. “Calm the hell down or we’re leaving. We write down the reason for every scar so we can work on your problems together, so that they won’t recur and you won’t hurt yourself more over the same things over and over…” Her voice would return to it’s softened tone, the young woman sighing and letting go of his shoulder. “Me and Herbert greatly care about you, and if Philip had made it today, he would be saying the same thing. Do you not believe us?”

“I  _ do _ believe you, okay? Stop… stop getting all mad at me…” Gregory’s voice had fallen into a mumble, averting his gaze back off to the side. He found it hard to look anyone he was close with in the eye when they got mad like this. “I… cut myself this time because… I’m-” he’s obviously hesitating, struggling to get the words out as he sighs. One hand balls into a fist and the other takes a handful of the pillow under him, gripping tightly as he shook his head. “I’m… I’ve been.. I’ve been thinking about  _ boys _ . Not just- thinking about them as a normal person would, I’ve… ugh, this is stupid-” his grip on the cushion eases and he brings his hands to his hair, gently stroking it with his fingers as he took a calming breath. “I’ve been… thinking about boys. N…  _ Naked boys. _ I… I did things by myself thinking about them, and I knew father would… beat me if he found out, and I felt disgusted in myself for thinking about things like that. So I… found a razor in my family’s main house-”

“We don’t need too much detail.” Herbert tried his best to politely cut the other off, raising his hand with a frown. “You were getting off to boys?”

“... yes I was.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with that, why would you hurt yourself over that? I think about boys sometimes..” he looks to Estella and then back to Gregory, but sighs and shakes his head. “Not that I do that much recently since I’ve started dating Estella, but I do consider myself one who swings for both teams.”

“I’ve thought about girls.” Estella chimes in, snickering to herself as she lays back on the large pillow behind her. “Same as Herbert, though, I haven’t thought about them since I’ve started dating him.”

“The point is, Gregory, you shouldn’t do things like that to yourself if you like certain… genders. You’re not a bad person for having preferences.”

Gregory swallows thickly and shakes his head, mumbling under his breath as he tilts his head back. “I just… if father finds out I like boys, he’ll beat me senseless… he doesn’t want a faggot as a son.”

“Don’t call yourself that.” Estella huffs and looks up to Gregory with narrowed eyes. “You’re not a faggot. You’re just Gregory. You’re  _ our _ Gregory. We’ll work on the whole internalized homophobia thing tomorrow, since we don’t have much longer until lunch comes around… are you willing to tell us what you wanted to rant about still?”

Gregory slowly nods. “So… me and Damien have acquired ourselves a new room mate. He’s new, an exchange student from France, and he’s… short. Has the chubbiest face in the world with freckles, he’s blind in one eye and he’s absolutely littered with scars. His hair looks… very soft. It’s brown and curly, sticking up everywhere. It’s like he hardly brushes it! He dressed so sloppily before he changed into the uniform, too… just a t-shirt, stupid shorts and boots. Hasn’t a lick of fashion. He…  _ does _ look rather nice in the school’s uniform though. Tight on him because of his size, shows his curves… God, wait, what the fuck am I saying- forget all that. Absolutely all of it. I said  _ none of it _ ! Whatever. What’s said has been said, but you’re not to repeat it to anyone. Now for his attitude… it’s just fiery  _ passion _ when he gets angry. He goes right off and says what's on his mind- he grabbed my collar earlier… pulled me close, yelled in my face- wait, no, getting off track with my thoughts, damn it!”

“You sure seem to like him.” Herbert would smile, shutting the little red notebook and handing it back to Estella. “Perhaps you’re crushing on him?”

Gregory’s silent, staring at Herbert for what seems like forever before snapping out of it. He didn’t want to lie, but he also didn’t want to fully admit his full feelings. “... maybe. I’m not even sure myself, Herbert-”

“It truly sounds like it to me. It sounds like how I used to ramble on about Estella with Philip! Please, Gregory. The first step to accepting yourself is realizing and acknowledging your feelings for someone. Say you like him out loud… just try it.”

Gregory isn’t quite sure if he’s ready for this type of thing, honestly- he’s fairly hesitant as he shifts, biting at his lip and crossing his arms. “I… I have feelings for Christophe.”

“Say it again”

“I have… feelings for Christophe.”

“Again, Gregory.”

The blond sucks in a breath and closes his eyes, nodding along. “I have  _ feelings _ for  _ Christophe. _ ” 

Estella lets out a small grunt as he sits up, shaking her head. “Dimwits… Gregory, do you know  _ why _ he’s been hostile towards you?”

“Well, I said a few things, but they really weren’t offensive-”

“ _ Gregory. We know you better than that.” _

“... I… I asked him about his father and… why he was darker skinned than his mother…”

“Being racist… go on, Gregory.”

Gregory truly seems to hesitate with the next one, not being able to look Estella in the eyes as he slowly mumbles the next part. It wasn’t audible, so Estella had asked him to repeat, to which he did; nervously, of course. “... I told him baking wasn’t very manly… and… oh, God…” Gregory was yet again prompted to keep going, the male letting out a small whimper. “ _ I said women belong in the kitchen-” _

Estella had to make sure she heard him correctly- had he really just said what he said? With her eyes narrowing, she nods and keeps herself calming. They were teaching him how to behave properly- this was fine. He’s learning. “ _ That’s sexist, Gregory. _ ”

“It’s what my father says! I- I’m just going off what I’ve learned from him!”

“How many times do we have to tell you that your father isn’t the greatest role mo-” She was cut off by the sound of the clocktower on campus, an irritated sigh leaving her as she stood up. “ _ Damn it. _ We’ll continue this tomorrow. I’m going to go clean myself up real quick, I’ll see you two in the dining hall.”

Gregory and Herbert both watched as the young lady stormed through the bookshelves, Herbert letting out a nervous whimper as he looked up to Gregory. “You’ve really got her fuming this time… oh, dear-” Herbert hurries off after her, leaving Gregory to stare at them as Herbert tried to catch up with Estella.

This was surely going to be a whole new learning experience.


End file.
